


Performance Review

by Psychopersonified



Series: Are we ever going to talk about this? [11]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Banter, COVID life, Established Relationship, Home Life, Humour, M/M, silly piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29416338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: Another one of those working during a pandemic type stories.Silly little piece, an awkward situation made better with formality.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Are we ever going to talk about this? [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1763425
Comments: 16
Kudos: 101





	Performance Review

Performance Review

“Your test came back negative, so it’s not the virus. You’re probably just a little run down. You look exhausted. Getting enough sleep?”

“Sleep is for the weak...,” his feeble and distracted tone belied the brave words. 

“Hmm... you’re not in your 20s anymore Q,” Dr. Chen reminds him. 

“Don’t I know it. Am I released from self-isolation?”

“Not yet. We need a second negative test in a week and then you can leave the house.”

“Far out…” Q sighs. Definitely not ideal. Being trapped in the flat is driving him mental. Not that he’s a flaming extrovert, but it would be nice to get some respite from everyone in the house demanding his attention. 

The cats, as sweet as they are, their demands for cuddles are starting to impinge on his productivity. Then there is Herbie who can’t yet understand that because Q is home does not mean he’s not working and vies with the cats for his undivided attention. He’d regretted drawing the distinction between work and home too clearly when the AI was younger, so now the algorithms find it difficult to parse the meaning ‘working-from-home’. 

Finally, there is the other occupant of his home. The pacing, brooding, bundle of pent up energy that is 007. 

“Trouble in paradise?”

“What? No...” Q answers too quickly, “.. I mean... yes, maybe.”

“Q, what's wrong?“ Dr. Chen probes, folding her hands on top of another on the table, fully concerned now. She 

“Nothing’s wrong per se. Just do you have something to help calm a hyperactive adult? 

“James giving you trouble?”

“Depends on what you mean by trouble,” Q tries to be evasive for a full three seconds. “Yes…“ he admits guiltily. 

Once he’s admitted it, it was like the floodgates open, “He’s like a cooped up husky. He’s struggling to find some measure of accomplishment with his new role and it’s making him angsty. Then he tries to de-stress with housework and exercise but he says he’s feeling like a hamster on a wheel - running and running but getting nowhere. 

He’s having to use ‘people management’ skills and create ‘procedures’. And when he meets a roadblock, he’s having to politically maneuver his way around instead of literally punching his way through…”

Dr. Chen winces sympathetically at that. 

“.... and so the only way he gets any release is when… is when...,” Q trails off, imploring Dr. Chen with wide eyes and nervous hand gestures to catch his meaning. 

“You mean he’s using sex as a temporary relief for his frustrations?”

Q nods, embarrassed. 

“Is there something you can give him?— within legal parameters of course.”

“Medicating a healthy adult without his knowledge doesn’t exactly fit the medical-legal framework. 

“Yes alright fine. Then can you recommend something for the chaffing?”

“Chaff— Q! Is he making you do things you don’t want to?” 

“No! No, nothing like that. It’s just he’s... very enthusiastic and tireless. In fact, I’m not doing anything. He’s the one… doing _things_ to _me_!” and when he’s done being defensive, “I fell asleep in the middle of it the other day. He took it as a personal affront.” 

“Q you can say no, even to your partner.” 

“Yes, I know. But then he gets so wound up and he snaps at his team.”

“Q… we discussed this when you started going out with him. Despite you technically out-ranking him—“

“—I know. I know everyone thinks there’s a power imbalance in our relationship. But really, it isn’t that. _Really_.” Earnestly. 

There’s a pause and then Dr. Chen decides to let it drop, this is more of a topic for Dr. Epstien anyway, “OK fine, but if you need to talk about it I’m here alright.”

“Now, about the chaffing. Are you using enough lubricant?”

“I thought we were, but clearly not enough,” he mumbles, looking away from the camera. 

“If your sessions are lasting longer than usual, you may need to reapply in the middle of it.”

Q makes a face. Because he’s known her since he was barely out of his teens, discussing sex with Dr. Chen is like talking to an aunt and it’s weird - at least on his side. She on the other hand, clearly has no problems with it. 

In the background, Dr. Chen sees the grey-clad figure carrying a mug approach. Without any warning, he sets the mug down and deftly plucks a wireless earbud from Q’s head and stuffs it in his ear. Q tries to slap him away, but as usual, it doesn’t work. 

Dr Chen scowls and tells him, “Go away please, 007. I’m in a middle of a consultation.”

Bond ignores her, his notorious selective hearing disorder playing up. “Anything I should be concerned about? He’s not got the virus has he?” he asks leaning down into view, one hand bracing against the tabletop next to Q’s keyboard, effectively hovering over the younger man. 

“Patient-doctor confidentiality Bond.” 

“If he’s got it, then it's likely I’ve got it too. I’m just saving you the effort of informing his close contacts,” even while he grins at the webcam, his other hand sneaks under Q’s shirt to stroke his back. Not necessarily amorous, there is a good measure of concern in the touch. Q has been somewhat listless lately. 

“James, I’m fine. It’s not the virus,” Q looking up to reassure him. 

The blue eyes are filled with concern despite the cheeky way he’s barged into the conversation, “Then what is it?” As a spy, he’s fine with keeping secrets, but he doesn’t like secrets being kept _from_ him. 

“Q… do you want me to talk to him about it?” Dr. Chen’s mom’s voice in full effect. 

The mild threat is enough to prod him along. “Uh no - I’ll speak to him,” Q declines quickly. 

“Alright then. Well since it doesn’t appear to be the virus at this stage, I’ll leave you to it then. I’ll email you about your next test.” With that, Dr Chen signs off leaving the two of them to talk. 

Bond straightens up and turns around, planting himself on the edge of Q’s desk. He removes the earbud, places it next to the keyboard, and regards Q with an expression best interpreted as - _talk_.

Q hesitates, looking for the right way to approach it. He reaches up and hooks a forefinger around James’ pinky. 

“It’s sort of about… us. I mean it _is_ about us. In the bedroom…”

James is a trained operative and can read between the lines. “Is this about the other night? When you fell asleep?” His expression is pinched. 

“No! I mean maybe…. I mean yes.”

There’s the telltale sign of a jaw muscle clenching - it's only there because Bond doesn’t want to hide it. It’s about as emotive as the usually stoic agent gets when it comes to serious talk. 

The both of them had basically tripped over each other with their apologies that night. One for the assumed lackluster performance, the other for the seemingly callous disregard for the efforts of the other. 

“I’m perfectly satisfied with your performance James. You’ve far exceeded all my expectations in that regard. 

“I’m feeling there is a _but_ coming in this review…”

Q clears his throat, venturing a look at James through his lashes, “It’s just that our sessions can be highly enthusiastic and while I have no complaints with the execution, I feel the frequency might be slightly excessive? Especially considering we’ve all been under the pump lately.”

James takes it all in silently. He doesn’t pull away, a mildly encouraging sign. 

Finally, James draws in a deep breath, looking away. Then he lets it out in a noisy exhale. He reaches out with a hand to gently cup Q’s cheek and then runs his hand through the messy dark hair. 

“Perhaps I have been somewhat inconsiderate lately— more than usual. As a means of making amends, may I propose we focus on quality and not on quantity?” he mirrors Q’s formal parlance.

“That would be preferable... if you’re really ok with it. I.. I’m open to less strenuous means of helping you achieve release,” he taps on his tablet to bring up his schedule, “I could pencil you in for a 15-minute handjob at lunchtime?” Q injects humour to smooth over the awkwardness.

“Hmm... tempting. But I think it’s time I dealt with my issues in a constructive way.”

Q wraps a hand around the strong wrist of the hand still combing through his hair and brings it to his lips, “Are you going to talk to Dr. Epstien?” Q implores.

“I wouldn’t go that far!” James dismisses the idea immediately, muscles in his forearm tensing. Q holds on determined. 

“Then what’s your plan? Going to the gym and punching the stuffing out of an innocent bag? Oh, wait! The gyms are closed and you’re in self-isolation,” he challenges the agent. 

James lets his head fall back, looking up at the ceiling - frustration evident. 

“Or are you finally going to attend the leadership course HR signed you up for?” Q needles him some more. 

The older man looks like he’s being made to swallow the worst of bitter medicines, “Yes alright, I’ll do the bloody course!”

Q beams up at him, pleased that the discussion had come to an agreeable conclusion. 

James picks up his mug and turns to leave Q to his work, but suspicion begins to creep into his mind, he turns back, “You didn’t engineer this whole thing to guilt me into doing the course did you?”

“No!” But his denial is accompanied by an irrepressible grin. “You’re not the only one capable of deception. But I can honestly tell you, I am experiencing a mild case of chafing.”

Blonde eyebrows climb in surprise, “Which reminds me, we’re out of lube, should I tell Herbie to order some along with loo rolls?”

“James, Herbie is not your Amazon assistant.”

The man shrugs, “He seems fine with it.”

On cue, as everything in his life involving Herbie is - Q’s laptop chat app chimes cheerily with a message. 

:: Herbie order this? ::

The message is accompanied by a link to what can only be described as an industrial-sized bottle of lube. And it’s even in their usual brand. 

:: Item on discount. Add condom - make free shipping? :: The bot recommends the large bulk pack helpfully. 

Q pushes away and stands up quickly from his desk mortified, “Oh god….”. Herbie loves shopping. It’s intensely curious about the things that they buy and their purpose and the factors that influenced their decision. But most of all, Herbie loves being helpful. After all, the AI was designed to run predictive data modeling. 

He doesn’t want to know if Herbie is aware of what the lubes and condoms are used for, neither does he want to stick around for the bot to ask about the mechanics. 

“I’m going to have a lie-down,” he tells everyone, not being able to deal with it right now. 

:: Query: Condom size? ::

:: F/up query: Which size for whom? ::

The door to the bedroom slams shut. 


End file.
